


weekend lover

by downmoon



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, and porn, and tiddies, look i just wanted ryo having an orgasm for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 21:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downmoon/pseuds/downmoon
Summary: all have sinned and fall short of the glory





	weekend lover

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me father

In all things, Akira has observed, Ryo is cold, calculated, and merciless.

But in bed, Ryo is an anomaly. Sex is the singular, defining act in which Akira’s observed Ryo to be the complete and total opposite to who he is with his clothes on. It took a few tries, after Akira fucked the lust-haze out of his brain and into Ryo’s small body, for him to notice, but now that sex isn’t a frenzied rush towards release and relief, Akira watches.

He watches Ryo, watches the way his body twitches in small waves, the way his pink mouth will fall open for a half-second, the tilt of his neck as his head falls back into the pillows. It’s all very subtle, _very_ subtle indeed, but Akira’s not a completely hopeless idiot. Plus with Ryo that close, _literally_ as close as he could be to Akira, it’s much easier to catch sight of these little anomalies. Ryo acts the same way Akira did when he first discovered how awesome mastubation is; it’s all hesitation and surprise and small, tense movements, like Ryo’s trying something brand new out for the first time. Given how blasé he was the day he demanded that Akira fuck him– to take out that pent-up sexual energy on him, thus logically avoiding another disaster with a demon in disguise– Akira would’ve expected Ryo to maintain the same bored expression he does when he reviews whatever it is he reviews on his computer. And for the most part, that’s the expression that hangs on Ryo’s face. But lately, now that Akira has it in his mind to watch, to swivel his hips just so, or press his tongue to Ryo’s collar bone, _lately,_ there are these flickers that Akira keeps seeing.

Like now, when Akira’s grinding his hips in an almost agonizingly slow circle, Ryo’s eyes will flutter closed for a second, or he’ll sigh in contentment, or his fingers will curl in the sheets. Never all three at once, but those tells are there, and the longer they keep at this, the more frequent those tells are becoming.

Akira stops moving for a second and in response, Ryo’s eyes open, a frown creasing across his brow.

“Why did you stop?” Ryo demands. Akira could almost laugh at the petulance in his tone, if he weren’t so damn _close–_

“Wanna try something,” is Akira’s breathless reply. He shifts a bit, hiking Ryo’s leg higher over his hip, squaring his knees more firmly on Ryo’s mattress. He pushes in, and to his delight and amazement, Ryo’s entire body shudders.

_“Oh,”_ Ryo breathes out. Not once, not in all the weeks they’ve been fucking, as Ryo even hinted at a syllable of pleasure during sex. He saves his words to prod Akira off of him, or ask if Akira’s done yet, or command him to hurry up and finish, but Akira’s never so much as heard a moan from him.

“Oh?” Akira mimics. With his arms braced at the elbows on either side of Ryo’s head, it’s easy to cuddle up to him, to dip his hot tongue against the soft flesh of Ryo’s earlobe. “Feel good?” Akira murmurs. Ryo doesn’t say anything, but one of his hands has come to rest at the nape of Akira’s neck, his fingers twining some of that dark hair and pulling every time Akira presses deeper into him.

“Ryo,” Akira moans out, breathless and wanton as that buzzing, burning sensation begins to curl low in his stomach. He tilts his hips minutely, chasing that touch of ecstasy, and feels Ryo shiver against him.

Ryo sighs again, his fingers clenching tight in Akira’s hair, his leg hooking Akira in even closer. “Don’t stop,” he whispers, a whimper slipping in between his breaths. Akira can’t form a thought more coherent than Ryo’s name, so he chants it again. It falls from his lips like a prayer, a breath of worship falling golden between sweat and skin and Ryo moaning in his ear. Akira slips one arm free from its brace against the bed, resting his hand over one of Ryo’s small breasts and squeezing. Ryo reacts divinely, his spine lifting from the mattress, his fingers digging crescents into the back of Akira’s neck. Akira rolls his thumb around the nub of the nipple, and Ryo’s inhibitions only grow wilder.

“Akira,” Ryo slurs out, “what are you doing to me?” Akira gives a particularly vicious thrust in answer, and Ryo cries out, in ecstasy, in confusion, in worship. He’s making a steady stream of noise now, moans and pants and Akira’s name over and over. His hips rut wildly on Akira’s cock, dragging him deeper into Ryo’s warmth, pushing him closer to finality.

Akira can feel his heart thundering in his chest. Ryo squeezes around him, and Akira answers with another hard thrust. The motion has Ryo crying out again, a breathless, hitching mess of a noise leading to a long, debauched moan that goes straight to Akira’s dick. Akira tilts back, distancing himself just enough to catch sight of Ryo’s wide eyes, the shock painted over his sweaty face, the flush settled high on his cheekbones.

He’s been chasing it for twenty minutes, but Akira’s orgasm takes him by surprise. It hits him like a damn freight train, hard enough that his vision goes black for a split second, before he’s crashing back into reality and pushing into Ryo’s body even harder, chasing the last threads of pleasure. When he can breathe semi-normally again, he pulls out, grimacing as he peels the sticky condom off his dick and depositing the whole mess into the trash. Ryo’s still splayed out on the bed, sweat curling his hair, still looking dazed.

“Did you come?” Akira blurts out, a smile dancing over his mouth. Ryo’s cool eyes slide over to his face, and it’s perhaps the most lost Akira’s ever seen him look.

“Is that what happened?” Ryo asks, so sincerely and so innocently that Akira can’t help the laugh that startles out of him. Akira settles carefully next to Ryo, winding his warm hand over Ryo’s slender middle. He kisses Ryo’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, then his mouth properly as Ryo turns his head towards him.

“I should be surprised you’ve never jerked it before,” Akira says, “but it’s you, so I’m not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryo asks sharply. The furrow between his brows is back, but Akira, strung out on his post-coital bliss, is brave and content, and kisses the little divot away.


End file.
